


and the universe said you have played the game well

by hereforthehurts



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Reunions, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforthehurts/pseuds/hereforthehurts
Summary: You want to be a hero, Tommy?Then DIE like one.(He didn’t.)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 7
Kudos: 152





	and the universe said you have played the game well

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this purely to recover . Enjoy some pain :-]

_You want to be a hero, Tommy?_

_Then DIE like one._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(He didn’t.)

  
  
  
  


Tommy wakes up in a field.

  
  
  
  


The sky is clear blue. _So, so blue,_ dotted with fluffy white clouds in the distance. Tommy knows he’s seen this sky at some point in his life somewhere, but he couldn’t remember it. It feels like trying to recall something he’s never experienced before—something he doesn’t remember. All that he remembers is….

  
  
  


— _Fire. Fire everywhere, fire burning his land down, everything he’s ever had, everything he’s ever loved._

  
  
  


Tommy grasps on his hair curls, pulling them so tight it felt like his skin might come apart.

  
  
  


_Ashes, and red skies, and heat. Just heat. It was so hot, so hot, and he’s suffocating, he’s right there and he’s trapped with him and he can’t breathe—_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Tommy?”

  
  


The soft bristling of the grass stopped.

  
  
  


“Tommy.”

  
  
  
  


He looked up, and it was… him.

  
  
  


_Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur—_

  
  


“Tommy,” his eyes widen, pupils as sharp as an enderman’s, “No, no, _no, Tommy not you—”_

Wilbur ran towards him so fast that Tommy couldn’t help but cower in fear. “NO!” he yells. “WHY ARE YOU HERE? _WHY ARE YOU HERE?”_

“I’m—”

  
  
  


and Tommy finally accepts it for the first time.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I’m dead.”

  
  
  


Silence. Even the clouds had seemed to stop moving, the wind quiet as if the world was holding back their breath.

  
  
  
  
  


“ _No,”_ Wilbur whispers softly, eyes now wide and glassy. “No, _no, Tommy—_ you shouldn’t be here, you can’t be, you—”

“Wilbur.”

“What—” he looks up and down, examining every inch of his body. “Who…?”

“Dream.” His name tastes bitter in his tongue, like copper. Maybe it was the blood. “He… he—”

“Oh,” Wilbur keens, “oh, no.”

  
  
  
  


Tommy stares at him for a while. _Wilbur_ , not Ghostbur _._ This is him. Wilbur. His brother. Beige aviator jacket and yellow beanie, with his hair curls popping out in the front he can’t ever seem to tuck in—it’s him.

  
  
  


Wilbur’s so carefully reached to touch the skin of his cheek. He hitched his breath, seeming to falter when his fingers actually touched him. “ _Tommy.”_

  
  
  
  


He pulls him into a hug and buries his nose on Tommy’s soft curls, pressing his brother’s head into his chest. “Oh. Oh god. It's you. _It is you.”_

“Mmhm,” Tommy mutters, burying his head into his sweater. “It’s me.”

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“Fuck.” Wilbur breaths, and Tommy could feel the tears dripping down from the taller boy’s cheeks, “Fuck, Tommy, I’m so sorry. I should’ve—I—you shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am, now, aren’t I? There’s no use dwelling on the past,” Tommy tells him, even when memories of his life slowly trickles, in, all the bad ones, his war days and exile days and his days in that obsidian prison _._ Scared and suffocating and _hopeless_.

  
  
  
  


“Yeah,” Wilbur nods. “You're—you're here. I’m here. _We’re_ here.”

  
  
  
  
  


Tommy looks up at the sky—the clouds are moving again, in the sea of endless blue. The wind brushes gently against his cheek. The grass continues to sway along with it.

  
  
  
  


“We _are_ here,” Tommy repeats. “And everything will be okay.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


(He doesn’t know that, of course, but he tries to believe it anyway.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(After all, it was all that he could do, now.)

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr blog !!](https://hereforthehurts.tumblr.com/)


End file.
